fifth_garde | (no subject)

[He wakes with a start, sliding gracelessly off the edge of the bed with a thump. He pops back up in a moment, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and then reaching for the pitcher of water on the nightstand.]

Good, honest. Much better. [He runs his hand through his messy hair, trying to paste a smile across his face.] I can probably fix myself up now, jus' need t'go down to the cars.

[He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, feeling incredibly stiff from the way he slept and gasping slightly at the pain that jolts through his system.] 's not gonna be pretty...

Edited 2011-07-30 21:14 (UTC)

[He's not really buying that, Jason.]

Are you sure you want to go now? No offence, but you look like death. What is it? I can get it for you.

Y'can't. I mean I'd love for you t'be able t'bring it to me but you can't touch it without hurtin' yourself.

[He rolls his eyes and takes another drink.] 'n thanks, 'm pretty sure I do look like shit right now, but that'll change in an hour.

[He walks haggardly over to his bag and pulls out a t-shirt, pulling it on partly with his hands and partly with small bursts of telekinesis.] 'n then it'll just be the tiredness 'n.. other things that'll have me worse for wear.

And I can't exactly float it through the corridors without being noticed. ...Or, truth be told, probably without dropping it. I'm not... It doesn't always work for me.

I didn't mean it like that...! You look like you've been in a fight, that's all.

Well, let's deal with... What we can deal with first. It'll look better if you have company, so-- Let's go.

'm not even sure if it can be floated. I always have to have a hand on it before I use any legacies.

[He groans.] You're right, if anyone looks suspicious I'll just smile at 'em with my best pretty-face.

[He starts to head out the door and down the corridors, stopping every few moments for a quick breather. Eventually they're down at the car and he stops to lean against it, realising that lugging the chest would be impractical, and more importantly he had a better idea considering the lack of people in the car park.]

Second thoughts, get in the front seat. 'm gonna lie down in the back 'n let this thing work its magic. But, uh, y'know the magic thing.. any way you have a spell t'make things silent?

Well, they seem to work differently to my magic, but... I wouldn't want to cause any harm to either it or me.

Just because that works on me doesn't mean it'll work on everyone else, you know.

[He frowns at how Jason seems to need to keep stopping, but it's still early enough that there aren't many people to see them.]

I... Yes. [Assuming it'll work.]

[He smiles, or rather.. winces facially, in what he hopes was a reassuring manner.]

Right, well y'might wanna do that, 'cause 'm probably gonna scream.. a lot. This thing, it doubles the pain just to heal it... [He says this all in a groaning voice, he'd used the stone twice before and absolutely hated it. He finally digs it out of the chest and slides into the car, hoping that Owen follows suit.]

[Owen will do just that, sitting into the front passenger seat.]

It does what? That seems horribly counter-productive...

[He frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to recall how to cast a silencing charm. It's a lot like a protective field, except there needs to be something in it to prevent the transmission of any energy... He mumbles the words, although he has no way of testing it from inside the barrier.]

...I think we're good.

[He hopes.]

'm sure it'll work great.

[He smiles as well as he can before he puts the healing stone on his tongue and lies backwards onto the leather. That's when the first wave of pain hits him, bearable to begin with but which grows in intensity, he can already feel his injuries knitting themselves together but its an incredibly painful experience, he gasps with the pain and his gasp becomes a growl. It isn't long before he's let out a scream as it feels like someone's picking apart the tissue inside his shoulder.

When its finally finished doing the job it was meant to his breath is coming out in sharp gasps but as a general feeling he's a lot less shitty than the morning. He sits bolt upright in the back seat and climbs into the front of the car, pulling down the mirror to look at his face.]

Wow.. I really do look like shit. [He pulls a packet of cigarettes from the glove compartment and lights one, offering one to Owen even though he knows he doesn't smoke.]

That was fun.

[He's hoping. And, in fact, it actually does hold-- or at least, no one comes running to check on them, which is good.

He's nothing short of amazed seeing Jason's injuries heal, but considering it extracts what is clearly a very heavy price, he also hopes it's something he doesn't have to see again. Owen watches him from the rear-view, biting his bottom lip. It is very, very difficult to watch someone --anyone-- writhing around in pain, especially someone you care about. Which, he has to sort of slowly realise, he does.

He waves off the offer of the cigarette.]

I'm good. Although if I had one of those to hand right after you called me last night, I'd probably have taken it. You scared the hell out of me, for the record. ...Are you feeling better now? You look better, regardless of what you think.

There's a bit of, uh, muscle pain. Mostly from bein' tense 'n shit. Nothin' a fifth of whiskey wont fix.

[He begins examining himself in the mirror, his eyes look darker than usual and his lips and cheeks seem a little pale around the edges. More importantly, his skin just didn't look great. He needed another shower, with actual soap and a shave rather than just water.. and tears. Speaking of, there was still a bit of redness to his eyelids which he'd fix up the moment they got back upstairs.

He takes a deep drag of the cigarette, blowing it at the mirror and flipping it back up. Once again he's shuffling through the glove box this time for the eye drops he kept in there, he'd never admit it but it'd be times like this he could have done with wearing his glasses for a couple of hours. He leans backwards and lets some of the liquid into his eyes, blinking rapidly as he runs his free hand over his face.

He knew he could hold himself together now, he just had to go about his daily things without worrying about anything more than thirty seconds ahead.]

'm hungry, 'n regardless what y'think.. I need some kind of sprucin' or whatever.

[Owen watches that appraisal, not even complaining about the smoke inside the car.]

Then we go back upstairs, I order room service, you clean out the mini-bar, and we both get some proper rest.

A couple of hours sleep and you'll be as pretty as ever. ...And I can re-schedule that flight for tonight, if you want.

No... no room service. [He groans.] We're goin' to a diner, 'n we'll sit down 'n eat. The alcohol isn' necessary just yet.

[He finishes his cigarette and slides out of the car much more gracefully, stretching his arms above his head and hearing a satisfying array of cracks. He stuffs the cigarettes into the pocket of his jacket and heads back into the hotel corridors, waiting for Owen to catch up.]

[Which he'll hurry to do, after taking only a tiny moment to look Jason over, purely from a medical perspective, nothing to do with him looking uninjured and thus attractive once more at all.]

What's wrong with room service...?

[Owen travels a lot and he hates eating alone in public. Room service is like his saviour.]

I hate bein' in one room for too long.

[He takes off up the corridor into the room, grinning. He really needed to get outside with thousands of people for him to criticise.]

'm gonna shower, 'n I mean like scrub every layer of skin so 'm gonna be at least an hour, so d'ya wanna nap or whatever 'n I'll wake y'up when 'm done?

[He waggles his eyebrows.] Or y'could join me?

[If Owen were meaner (which he isn't), he'd made some crack about hoping that Owen would never leave him frantic in a room for five hours wondering if he was going to live to show up at all. ...But he's not, or at least he's not mean enough to say it today.]

I don't know if I could do a whole hour's showering...

[And he's not entirely sure that getting up to... Things would be beneficial for Jason's mental state right now.]

Then you've never been as clean as I have before. [Smirk.]

Honestly? It'd be better to do it alone though, gettin' messy isn' really the point in a shower.

[He sets about getting clothing from his back, relying on the complimentary toiletries the hotel supplied to actually get himself watched. Not that they'd ever match up to the expensive stuff.]

Well, maybe we can work on that once we get back to England.

[Once Jason's actually in the shower, Owen will actually lie down. Moreover, he will actually sleep, pretty much as soon as his head hits the pillow. He'll be out like a light by the time Jason gets out.]

[He takes a while in the shower, going through all sorts of grooming and primping, he even goes as far as to use a pair of nail scissors to cut the end of his fringe back before pushing his hair up again into its messy style.

Finally, when he's fully dressed again in a tight pair of jeans and an equally tight white t-shirt, he leaves the bathroom, humming under his breath. He sees owen sleeping and even takes a moment to admire his form as he lies there. He approaches him gently and sits on the end of the bed, shaking Owen's thigh.]

Rise 'n shine. 's now.. eleven 'n I'm still hungry.

[Owen had been having some fairly awful but vague and confusing dreams about being chased by demons he couldn't see, and he isn't ever at his best when woken abruptly, so he sits up with a start, blinking.]

Mn, wait, what?

...Jason. Hi. Uh. ...Right, just... Give me a minute.

[He runs a hand over Owen's hair, smiling slightly. He then crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting light into the room.]

Y'can have a whole five minutes t'wake up. 'n then decide if y'want t'shower or if y'just wanna walk out a mess.

...'m not a mess.

[He says this around a yawn. And his hair is all sticking up at the back. And his shirt is wrinkled.]

[He snorts.]

'n I'm human. [He outright laughs.] Y'look like someone rolled you down the stairs.

[Five himself seems awfully perky for the fact he should be struggling with grief, he sets about making himself a cup of instant coffee with the kettle they had in the room.]

I do not.

[He sits up, rubbing at his eyes and looking about five years old.]

...But maybe I should have a shower.

[He will notice that (once he's not half-asleep), but for the moment he stretches and stumbles in the general direction of the bathroom.]

[He nods, resisting the urge to giggle.]

Y'should... [He watches Owen go, then sets about tidying the place up a little, throwing his clothing from the night before straight into the trash, then realising they'd be saturated with DNA thinks better of it and bundles them into the bottom of his back to be disposed of later.

He then gets a second mug and pours a cup of tea for Owen, which he could do whatever he wanted with whenever he was done freshening up. He then settles down to watch the news to make sure there was no mention of his night before.]